


Starless Alabama

by Ninni



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fighting turns into sex, First Time Wincest, M/M, Pining!Sam, Top!Sam, Wincest - Freeform, bottom!Dean, kinda impala sex, pining!dean, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 19:13:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11630088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninni/pseuds/Ninni
Summary: First time wincest, set during season 4.





	Starless Alabama

Dean had always known it would come to a head at some point, this intricate, messed up sort of dance him and Sam had danced for years – the touches that lingered too long, the looks between them that made promises that were anything but innocent. The secrets they murmured into the darkness of whiskey nights as they lay in separate beds, secrets they never spoke of in daylight.

Dean just wasn’t expecting it to reach its breaking point in the middle of a starless Alabama night by the side of a highway, his clothes still damp with blood from the hunt they’d just finished.

They had fought, of course they had, because they always fucking fought. They could barely look at each other these days without snarling at each other, pushing or shoving or spitting some rude remark at each other and maybe it had always been a part of their game, the only outlet they would allow themselves.

Sam had snapped at him, Dean had pulled over, they had gotten out of the impala and Sam had sneered an accusation at him – Dean had barely registered it, he’d just swung his fist at Sam, going for the throat, but Sam had caught his arm and twisted it to his back, shoving Dean face first against the side of the car.

And this is where Dean finds himself now, face pressed against the cool surface of the car, struggling beneath the length of Sam’s strong body.

“Fuck you Dean,” Sam grits out, his long fingers wrapped around Dean’s wrist, his breath hot against Dean’s neck. “Fuck you.”

“Get the hell off me,” Dean wheezes, his heart pounding furiously in his chest because the entire length of Sam’s body is pressing him against the impala.

“I don’t want to,” Sam says in a voice that would be derisive if it wasn’t for the slight tremble that gives something away, something Dean doesn’t quite want to let himself believe really is there – but then Sam continues: “And you don’t really want me to, right?”

Dean’s slight whimper seems to be enough of a confirmation for Sam, who spins him around, pinning Dean’s back to the car as he takes a bold step forwards, one leg pressing between Dean’s thighs and Dean stares up into Sam’s determined face. He wants to say something, but he finds that he is uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

“What are we doing?” Dean finally breathes into the air between them, his fingers clutching the fabric of Sam’s sleeve.

Sam’s eyes gleam in the little light left in the twilight skies above them as he tilts his head down, his lips hovering over Dean’s. “Will you,” Sam mumbles, suddenly coy, his thumb tracing Dean’s bottom lip, “Will you let me?”

Dean swallows, head light and body hot, his entire being throbbing with arousal as he feels the years of pent up desire pierce like electricity, like a lightning bolt, through the small space between them. He would never, ever, deny Sam anything, and the answer comes so easily: “Yes.”

Sam smells like blood soaked iron and cheap motel soap when his warm mouth covers Dean’s, and Dean can’t stifle the undignified noises he makes as Sam’s tongue drags filthily along the roof of his mouth.

Dean tangles his fingers in the curls of Sam’s neck, tugging his brother closer. “Yes,” he whispers again when they break apart for air, “Yes, I’m letting you. Anything. Anything you want.”

Sam honest to God growls then, tugs Dean’s zipper open and pushes his jeans down, swearing as he can’t get them over his shoes. Dean kicks his shoes off and steps out of his jeans, his hard cock staining his boxers with pre come. Sam’s eyes roam over him, white teeth gleaming in an almost feral smirk as he trails his fingertips along the inside of Dean’s thigh, teeth grazing Dean’s earlobe.

“Anything?” Sam whispers, as he cups Dean’s leaking cock.

Dean shoves his hips forwards, shamelessly. “Sam,” is all he manages as his eyes draws open, gazing up into the face he’s loved since the first time he saw it.

Sam takes a small tube out from his pocket. Lube.

Dean feels his blood pound from jealousy and arousal. “Get around much, little brother?” he says, trying to sound cool with Sam’s thumb teasing the head of his cock.

Sam kisses him then, hard, before he hisses against his cheek: “I only use it when I jack off, thinking of you.”

“Fuck,” Dean gasps, the thought of Sam getting his own cock hard and messy over the thought of Dean painting all sorts of lovely images.

Sam picks him up then, and Dean wraps his legs around Sam’s waist, marveling at how perfectly they fit together, how easily Sam keeps him up. Dean is held there, like a ragdoll, by his little brother whose eyes are almost black beneath lowered eyelids as he stares down into Dean’s face.

A smirks spreads across Sam’s face again as Dean feels Sam’s long fingers, slippery and cold, circle his hole. Dean thinks he might actually come, embarrassingly, just from this. From the look on Sam’s face, with his brother’s fingers teasing the rim of his hole.

“Are you hot and sweet in here, big brother?” Sam says, in a tone Dean has never before heard him use but one that he is sure he won’t ever get enough of. “Gonna let me slide my big cock in here?”

Dean claws at Sam’s shoulders now, whining as he pushes himself against the fingers he’s desperate to have inside of him. “Do you want a fucking written invitation, Sammy? Fuck just, I need you inside me, please fuck me.”

Sam exhales shakily as he slides one finger into Dean, deeply, possessively, like he knows what he’s looking for. And, with a slight wriggle, he finds it – Dean throws his head back as Sam, the little shit, finds his prostate with a single finger. Dean moans, obscenely, he can tell, but he can’t help it because Sam’s one finger is making him see stars and his little brother’s teeth grazes his earlobe.

“Sam,” Dean almost sobs, “You gonna have to – ah!- please, I’m gonna-“

Sam’s voice holds no mockery, only awe and desire when he asks in a hot whisper against Dean’s lips: “You gonna come from just this?”  
Dean mewls, fingers tangling in Sam’s hair. “Don’t wanna. Want to come on your cock, Sam.”

Sam nods, and Dean let’s out an ah! as he feels Sam’s finger slip out of him and getting replaced by the dripping head of Sam’s cock, teasing the rim, and Dean is shaking.

The night is impossibly dark and still around them when Sam finally enters Dean, their mingled moans the only thing disrupting the compact silence. Sam starts out deliberately, setting a slow but hard pace, his hips snapping against Dean’s.

Dean clings to him, basking in the sensation of finally, finally, having his brother inside of him. “Fuck Sammy,” he gasps, as Sam angles his hips and hits that fucking spot that makes Dean see stars. “Yes, yes, yes, please…”

Sam swears as he hears Dean’s desperate whines. He’s not holding back anymore, fucking Dean ruthlessly, sweat dripping down his forehead, his big hands grasping Dean’s thighs to keep him steady.

“Want me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice strained and almost shaking.

Dean can only nod, tears trickling down his face as he comes silently, helplessly, making a mess of Sam’s shirt.

“Dean,” Sam rasps out, cupping Dean’s face as he kisses him, tasting his tears as he comes.

Sam stays inside Dean, and Dean clings to him, neither letting go. Their breathing slowly calms, and the air around them seems to settle as their sweaty faces cools in the night breeze.

When they eventually find a motel for the night, neither corrects the clerk when she assumes they want a king sized bed.


End file.
